


Un-deduce-able

by pumpkinscript



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Deducting, F/M, First Relationship, Kissing, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, dammit Greg, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinscript/pseuds/pumpkinscript
Summary: "I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't think!" he shouted from the kitchen. He kept yelling once he started walking back into the living room where (y/n) sat on the couch. "I can't stop trying to figure you out and I've stopped being able to think entirely now, rendering me completely useless when I go out to crack a case! I am almost as utterly useless as Anderson and I don't know what to do about it and I don't even know why I'm telling you all this because cause I never share how I'm feeling because most of the time I don't even have feelings and I don't know why I have them now and more importantly, I don't know why they're about you!!"





	Un-deduce-able

"Shut the door, (y/n)," Sherlock said. He was concentrating on a particularly hard case, and (y/n) was trying to be of help. Eventually, he got tired of her "help", and told her to leave. Sitting on the couch outside Sherlock's room where he sat thinking, she drifted off. It had been days since she had last slept, and Sherlock had her running about chasing murderers and such. When she woke up, she was surprised to see Sherlock sitting in the chair in front of her staring directly into her (y/e/c) eyes. 

She jumped a bit when she opened her eyes, but he stayed still. 

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I just can't figure you out," he said, a look of frustration on his face. "You've been sharing this flat with me for a while now, but I just can't seem to deduct anything from you. You're like a blank sheet and it's... it's quite annoying!" At this, he slammed his hand down on the side table, making (y/n) jump. 

"Well I'm not doing it on purpose," she defended. He grunted and got up, walking to the kitchen. He took his coat off because he was stressed and he was getting sweaty. Mumbling something to himself that (y/n) couldn't understand, he left the room.

"I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't think!" he shouted from the kitchen. He kept yelling once he started walking back into the living room where (y/n) sat on the couch. "I can't stop trying to figure you out and I've stopped being able to think entirely now, rendering me completely useless when I go out to crack a case! I am almost as utterly useless as Anderson and I don't know what to do about it and I don't even know why I'm telling you all this because cause I never share how I'm feeling because most of the time I don't even have feelings and I don't know why I have them now and more importantly, I don't know why they're about you!!"

Sherlock had sat down directly across from  
(y/n), breathing heavy and arms shaking. He had just spilled the feelings he though he had never had to his flatmate, and he was in a slight state of shock. (Y/n), who had always liked Sherlock, was also shaken by his long outburst. Then, she decided to take a leap of faith. She leaned forward quickly and pressed her lips to Sherlock's. She could feel anxiety and passion radiating off his carved face. The world-famous consulting detective who, according to the media, and even Sherlock himself, had no feelings whatsoever kissed her back with all the feeling he had. He hadn't been sure before if he had even liked the feeling of being in love, but now, he was positive he did. It was a short kiss, but she drew back, sitting on her part of the couch across from Sherlock and staring into his eyes when he broke the silence. 

"(Y/n)," he said with a note of calculation and timidness in his voice, "I love you," and this time, he got up from the couch, sat next to (y/n), and kissed her. She kissed him back and cupped her hand to his face. He, being as polite as possible, kissed her back gently but passionately. He placed his hand on her leg, which she had propped up on the couch next to her. Slowly, (y/n) pushed Sherlock back and she laid on top of him, kissing his lips. He had never been in a serious relationship before and never gone beyond a peck on the mouth, so everything she did resulted in some sort of sensual reaction from him, which she found attractive. She slowly kissed his mouth, then his jaw, and then she kissed his neck, extracting a low moan from his throat. His breathing sped up and she could tell that he was both nervous and very turned on. She then guided his torso back up with her so that she was sitting on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back harder and harder, resulting in the same moans from Sherlock. She felt his body shaking, and she knew he wanted more. She guided his hands to the hem of her shirt and he pulled it over her head, leaving her chest up against him in her black sports bra and black pants. Then, she started unbuttoning the top button, then the second, then the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and all the way down until she slipped the shirt of his shoulders. He pulled back for a second and looked back fiercely at (y/n). 

"Now, it's my turn," he said, controlling his shaking and looking at her sternly. He then took a deep breath and kissed her, hard, climbing on top of her, this time. He knew what he wanted and he went after it like a lion went after its prey. He linked his fingers around the belt loops on her pants and pulled them off over her hips. Sinking down, he kissed her jawline, neck, and then he kissed her stomach below her navel, causing her to be the one to moan. She couldn't resist it; she subconsciously bucked her hips against his lips and he grinned to himself. She then sat up and pulled his pants off, leaving him sitting on her in his navy blue boxer shorts.

They kissed each other passionately, each happy to have found their match. 

CREEEAAK. 

Greg Lestrade waltzed into the room, not even seeing the two until after he had started talking. 

"Sherlock, you and (y/n) need to get down to the station right now because we're dealing with this case and this man won't leave us be and OH MY GOD—" His eyes went wide with shock once he saw the two sitting on the couch, half undressed. His face went beet red and he started stuttering. 

"Oh my god, I-I'm sorry, I didn't s-see you there and I d-didn't knock I- I - I'm sorry I—"

"Just stop talking, Gresham." Sherlock looked straight at Lestrade with a look of annoyed boredom on his face. And then Lestrade's look of terror and embarrassment was overtook in a second by the same annoyed look on Sherlock's face. 

"It's Greg." 

"Yes, Graham," Sherlock cut through, "now get out of my flat you've ruined the mood."

"Sorry, Sherlock, (y/n)," Greg said as he left the flat, leaving Sherlock and (y/n) sitting all alone once again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find my works on my Wattpad page @pumpkinscript


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